[This story contains elements of dubious consent. If that's not your cup of tea, read elsewhere.]
I heard a door slam shut, and some muffled commotion in the hallway.
“Do you want to see what that is?” I asked.
“Nah, bros goofing around.”
But the door to Finn’s bedroom burst open with a sudden bang, revealing Riley. And just behind him, Donovan.
“Well, well, well,” Donovan purred. “Started the party without us?”
I looked at Finn, who shot a meaningful glance at Riley then Donovan.
“Dudes, it was just supposed to be me and Justin tonight,” he complained, although he was trying hard not to grin.
“Fuck that bullshit,” Riley said. I could see he’d had a few drinks. “Bros share with their bros.”
Donovan was looking downright predatory. He was wearing that same cut-off t-shirt this time with black compression shorts.
He shot Riley a look. “Wasn’t there a theory you wanted to test out, my man?”
Riley feigned ignorance. “What about?” He was wearing a dark blue Under Armour compression shirt with gray compression shorts.
“What was it you said, something about how fags have to do what we tell them.”
“Oh right,” Riley pretended to catch on. “Yeah, but it turns out that’s just role-playing. It’s a scene. You can’t really just have your way with faggot bitches, even if you’re a real man.”
“Who’s gonna stop us?” Donovan asked, ominously.
“Guys, I’m not down with this—” Finn said, unconvincingly.
“I’m out of here, assholes,” I cut him off, rising from my seat on the bed and heading towards the door. “Thanks for dinner, Finn—”
“Not so fast,” Donovan said, grabbing me from behind and pinning me to his huge frame.
“You wouldn’t want to miss our ‘role-play,’” Riley said, with a hint of underlying bitterness as he pulled off his shirt and dropped it on the floor. “You know, where the sweet nerdy faggot gets date-raped by three douchey bros.”
“It’s not like he can do anything about it,” Donovan said.
“It’s not like he wants to,” Finn added ominously. As I’d seen before, he could turn the veneer of charm on or off. Now he was all predatory desire.
I screamed out for help. The blond titan who’d easily enveloped me in his grip slammed a heavy paw over my mouth. “Give me something to shut the bitch up.”
“How about my dirty jockstrap?” Finn suggested, a cruel glint in his eyes. He grabbed something off the floor of his closet and moved quickly to wad it up and cram it into my mouth.
“Tape,” he called out, like an ER surgeon.
Riley was at the ready, with a strip of duct tape he quickly pasted over my mouth, sealing the jockstrap in place. “Let’s get him naked,” he said, all steely purpose.
I did not see the evening playing out like this. Finn seemed to echo my thoughts.
“I thought I was gonna get to play with Justin solo, but I guess I don’t mind sharing.”
“Justin and I have a little score to settle,” Riley stated, blankly. I looked at him quizzically, trying to understand what he was thinking, trying to get through to the man I knew with imploring eyes.
“Justin and I need to get a few things cleared up. Like trying to date my best friend behind my back,” Donovan chimed in. Finn shot him an odd look.
Donovan dropped me unceremoniously on the bed. Riley shut and locked the bedroom door.
“Did you close the connecting door in the hallway?” Finn asked.
“Yeah,” Riley confirmed. “The guys next door won’t hear anything. They just put on Game of Thrones.”
I did not like where this was headed. It felt like a hazing, or a game of frat-boy one-upmanship. They were full of themselves, drunk and rowdy and confident, yet no one seemed in charge.
All three were sporting massive wood. Riley’s long, thin missile I knew. But I was taken aback by Donovan, who boasted a steel rod completely in proportion with his massive all-American frame, stretching out the front of his Under Armour shorts obscenely. Finn had dropped his pants, and the head of his cock was peeking out of the waist of his boxer briefs, the whole shaft thick and rampant, pressed up against his abs, leaking pre-cum around his navel.
“Let’s get the faggot in the mood,” Donovan suggested. “How ‘bout a round of golf?”
“Fuck yeah,” Finn seconded. “But we won’t be able to score in his open mouth. I don’t think he’d play along anyway,”
“Yeah, definitely don’t take his gag out,” Riley confirmed. “For one thing, I don’t wanna hear anything the faggot has to say.” His dick twitched when he said the word faggot. He was definitely starting to have a hard-wired association between that word, my submission and his power. My cock stirred, but didn’t expand.
“Get something to restrain him,” Donovan ordered. He seemed to be having no difficulty summoning his leadership skills when the occasion warranted.
Finn went back to his closet and rummaged around. He came back with three leather belts. He dropped them on the bed.
I’d given up on fighting back for the time being.
“Put him in the chair,” Finn directed. “Riley, bring the tape.”
Donovan lifted me like I were a small pet and sat me in the office chair. Finn pinned my wrists to the arms of the chair, while Riley wound the tape around one wrist, taping it to one of the padded chair arms, then handed the roll over to Donovan, who did the same to the other wrist. Finn and Riley, meanwhile, worked together to secure my ankles to two of the three branches of the chair’s rolling pedestal.
Donovan then effortlessly rolled the chair, and me along with it, into the middle of the room.
“The rules are simple,’ Finn explained. “We start from three feet away. A face hit gets 5 points, head and neck get 3 points, rest of the body gets 1 point.”
They lined up three feet in front of me. Finn rattled the sputum in his throat and launched a giant loogie that landed beside my nose. Riley followed suit, making a hollow swish as the wad of spit and phlegm sailed forward and hit me right between the eyes. Then it was Donovan’s turn, and he nailed me right on my taped lips.
“That woulda been a hole-in-one!!” he roared, exuberantly.
“Okay,” Finn instructed. “Five all. Everyone take a step backwards.” The others complied.
Finn made a big show of gathering saliva, snorting and coughing, and then launched another gob that landed next to where Donovan had hit, on my lips.
Then it was Riley’s turn again. He hit my chin. Donovan got me on the other cheek.
“Ten all,” Finn announced. They took another step back. This continued until they started missing, at which point they couldn’t advance until everyone made a shot. By the time they were about 7 feet away and still making at least half of their tries, I was covered in slime, and in full erection.
Riley was the first to notice. “This sick faggot is completely turned on by this.”
“Guys,” Finn spoke up. “Let’s drown him in our spit.”
They crowded around me all at once, raining me with spit, just drooling on me, yanking my hair to pull back my head and coat my face, neck and shoulders.
“Get him on the floor,” Donovan said, steel in his voice.
All three quickly stripped out of their clothing. Uncovered, their erections seemed even meatier, more menacing. Finn grabbed a pair of scissors off the desk and cut me free of the of the chair’s arms and legs. Riley grabbed the belts from the bed and tossed one to Finn as Donovan laid me out on the floor.
They used one belt to restrain my wrists in front of me, this time, rather than behind. Another was used to bind my ankles together, while Riley took the third and looped it around my neck, like a leash. He yanked it tight, choking me with it. Finn ripped the tape off my mouth and removed his soiled and now drenched jock strap.
“Keep your mouth open,” Finn commanded.
“I’ll scream,” I threatened. Riley yanked on the belt, pulling it even more tightly around my neck. I gasped, but didn’t yell.
Finn let a huge wad of phlegm appear on his lips, and let it slowly hover over mine, letting it drop down then sucking it back when it reached the halfway point, finally letting it fall into my mouth. Donovan followed, but he just rattled in the back of his throat and fired a high-speed cannonball straight into my mouth. Riley straddled my chest, still holding the improvised choke collar tightly to the ground so I couldn’t move my head. He spat a messy spray all over my face, then wiped it in, smoothing it over my forehead cheeks.
All three began to rub and massage the accumulated slime from their spitting game into my hair, my neck and shoulders, as if they were solemnizing their abasement of me, my degradation. They moved on to rubbing their swollen cocks all over my face and hair, then moved down to my chest and stomach.
Riley was the first to realize what was happening. “We’re marking him. We’re alpha dogs marking our bitch.’
Finn had lifted my left leg and turned me partly on my side, so he was able to rub his turgid member in the groove of my ass cheeks. Donovan watched, mesmerized. He spat another large wad onto Finn’s throbbing fuckpole and let some spit drool into my ass crack for good measure.
Fortunately I had prepared before leaving home, prepping my channel and pre-lubing. I knew most of these guys didn’t understand the first thing about how to prepare for anal sex, which did not have to be painful.
Finn rammed into me. “Take it, faggot. Take my cock.” I was used to this kind of abuse by now, but it still burned. He was very thick, fairly long, and went quickly to the hilt, reaching a second tight ring in my channel. I moaned.
Riley cheered him on. “Nail that faggot. The bitch loves taking big muscle-jock cocks.” He positioned himself on his side above my head, and cradled his shoulder and arm above me, burying my face in his armpit, facing opposite where Finn was plowing into me.
I couldn’t see much, but inhaling Riley’s musk was going a long way to soothing me as Finn railed me mercilessly. Riley shocked me by leaning in further to offer his mouth to Finn, who accepted the kiss. They made out hungrily.
Donovan roughly shoved Riley backwards.
“Keep your faggot mouth off him,” he warned, voice low and dangerous.
“Fuck you, Donovan. You’re not in charge,” Riley protested. He sat back, though, and said nothing more.
“How does the faggot feel,” Donovan asked Finn.
“Tight and smooth, like hot velvet. Try him. Get in here with me.” Finn then hooked his powerful arms around and through mine, pulling my elbows behind my back, until my tied hands were drawn tightly against my diaphragm. Then he rolled us over so that I was lying back on his chest, his sword still lodged in my channel.
He secured my elbows together with just one hand wrapped around one and holding tight to the other. With his other hand, he reached down to grab hold of the belt binding my ankles. Bracing his own strong thighs widely apart and bent at the knees, he pulled my legs back into my chest, lifting my hip off the ground with no effort, his cock following up with me.
I, however, grunted at the strain of being contorted and folded in half. A split-second later, Donovan was kneeling between Finn’s legs, knees positioned just below my ass. He was spectacular, an Olympian titan glistening with sweat, his sculpted chest dusted with light blond fur, his abs were strained, popping like a beautiful bar of chocolate.
His eyes focused on aiming the head of his impossibly huge cock into my hole, which was already straining with Finn’s substantial member. He spit in his hand once, then a second time and coated his dick with slime. Without looking up, he pushed in above Finn while clamping his hand over my mouth in anticipation, then plunged his full length into me, thrusting in beside Finn’s throbbing dick.
As he’d expected, I gasped, then screamed bloody murder into the giant paw that was muffling my cries. It didn’t burn, it seared. It scorched. It ripped and tore in every sense.
“Let’s fuck the faggot together,” Finn said, softly. “Don’t pull all the way out.” They were staring at each other, signaling their movements telepathically. Together they withdrew their lengths about half way then slammed back in at the same time, a coordinated assault. When I’d been DPed in the past, they’d alternated, at least to begin with.
Ethan and Jackson had moved in counterpoint, or one would lie still enjoying the sensation of the other rod gliding against his. Not like this synchronized pile drive, which seemed to rip out my innards as they pulled outwards, only to demolish them again on the downstroke.
I wasn’t there, the only acknowledgment of my presence was Donovan’s meaty hand plastered against my mouth. They were focused on each other, communicating in a secret wordless language of grunts and moans. Riley, who’d gone silent, was running his hands through my hair to soothe me, wiping away the tears I hadn’t realized had been streaming from my eyes. He looked at me, trying to communicate something, or trying to read something there.
They kept this up, this drilling for oil, for what seemed like a long time. In the absence of any kind of connection with either of my would-be suitors, I sought pleasure in the feel of the hard, sweaty bodies that contained me, the weight of Finn’s muscular chest beneath me, one arm pulling my bound elbows back on either side of his abdomen, the other wrapped around my shoulder and throat.
Then there was the insistence of Donovan’s strong thighs and torso bearing down on my ass and folded legs, the hot pressure of his meaty hand pressed over my mouth. I was pinned between them and wasn’t going anywhere, so Finn let go of my arms. He reached up to grab the back of Donovan’s neck, pulling the blond god’s face down past me, above my head.I heard more than saw the kiss, as Donovan returned it, then recoiled in anger.
“Don’t,” he snarled. And then he shuddered in climax and emptied himself deep in my guts. A stroke later and it was Finn whose release was filling my insides. They collapsed on me and lay like that for several minutes.
When Donovan rolled off to one side, Riley moved quickly to release my bindings. He helped me to my feet and led me out to the large bathroom at the top of the stairs. He ran the shower and gently examined my rear for damage. Miraculously, there was no blood, nor did there seem to be any tearing or abrasion. He wrapped me in his muscular arms, pressing my face into his strong chest.
“I get it,” he murmured, sweetly. “I get it now. It’s only fun to do stuff to you when you’re having fun too. And sometimes your fun is me saying I can do whatever I want with you, and sometimes your fun is saying ‘no’ and we have our way with you anyway. But the point is you’re always having fun.
"Not being used like an object with no soul. Not being used so two closet cases can finally fuck each other while maintaining the pretense they were raping the faggot to get their jollies, or to teach him a lesson.”
He soaped me up and rinsed me off, cradling me with his strong arms as he reached around to wash my back.
"I love the feeling of power I get when I'm with other guys dominating your ass. I feel so close to them when we're having our way with you. Smacking you around. Working you over. It's such a rush. But I didn't feel that way today. I mean in the beginning I did. But then it was like they just tuned us out. I felt more connected to you."
Speaking of power rush, I could see the blood rushing to his expanding member.
He looked at me. "Is there something wrong with me?"
"Not if it's power I give you." I'd been reading up on some of this since my talk with Nick. "It's called 'power exchange.' I give up some, or all, of my power, so you can have it. It can be scary, but it's also fun to let go. To see where you take it, trusting you to be creative but careful."
“They didn’t care about you,” he whispered.
He turned off the water and reached for a couple of towels, draping one around each of us and patting me gently dry.
“And you do,” I stated, simply. “You do care.”
He wrapped me from behind in his broad chest again, arms enclosing me. “Course I do, faggot.”
We made our way back to Finn’s room, which was now empty, and got dressed. The connecting door was open again, the sounds of some medieval combat distinguishable, drifting up from below.
Downstairs, Finn and Donovan were sitting quietly watching a South Park rerun. Riley and I let ourselves out the front door. Before shutting the door behind me, I turned and said to the room, “Under the circumstances, I won’t thank you for dinner. But I recommend next time you just cut out the middle man.”
“What the fuck did you—” I heard Donovan bellow as I shut the door behind me and caught up to Riley.
Riley looked at me. “I don’t know how you do it, but after all that you still look so fuckable. I’m still horny as crap.”
“I’m pretty sore. You can have your way with my mouth. If you spend the night.”
“Try and stop me.”
When we got home, I didn’t feel like debriefing with Nick and he sensed not to push. I watched a little TV in the basement with the guys, Luca and Ernesto were there too. Luca shot me little concerned looks, and I just smiled and gave him a wink. Eventually I hauled myself upstairs to bed. I could study in the morning, and we were supposed to have another family meal, but I wondered how that was going to play out.
I brushed my teeth and got ready for bed, then slipped under the covers. 30 seconds later Riley let himself in and locked the door behind him. He was wearing boxer briefs that did nothing to conceal his obscene boner. He ripped the cover off me and grabbed my hair, rubbing my face all over his crotch. I couldn’t help mouthing his hardness, getting the crotch of his underwear wet, while he growled.
“Worship my manhood, faggot. That’s it. See how hard you make me, knowing I’m going to rape your bitch ass.”
I looked up at him. “You know, when lockdown is over you may never touch another guy again, and some girl will be lucky to get with you,” I was trying to put my thoughts into words. “But you’re really fun to have sex with. And I hope you use your formidable sexual prowess—”
Riley smirked and pressed his swollen crotch against my cheek.
"—As I was saying, that you find a way to use your fun, playful sexual nature in all your relationships. But you can always get with me to let off steam.”
“Less chatter, more sucking,” Riley barked. He pinned my shoulders to the mattress with his knees and thrust his thick cock down my throat, fucking it relentlessly as I explored the veins and contours of his ‘manhood,’ as he’d termed it. And basked in the visual glory that was his body – glistening pecs, broad rounded shoulders, arms flexed triumphantly.
He pulled out of my mouth, his dick slathered in spit and throat juices. “I don’t want to come down your throat.”
I sighed. “I can’t say no to you. I prepped my ass before bed. It’s sore, but not terrible.”
“Sweet!” he exclaimed. Then let a predatory sneer take over his face. “I think prison-style tonight. It’s the best! Lose the shorts.”
I complied, and Riley pinned me under his body, chest to chest, our throbbing erections rubbing against each other. He placed a meaty forearm across my throat and pressed down, menacingly.
“I’m taking your ass tonight, bitch. This is happening.”
And with that he turned me over, pulled me into a choke hold with one muscled arm crooked around my throat and shoulders, the other hand tightly covering my mouth. “Little pig, little pig, let me come in,” he whispered, as he eased his cock into my opening, going slowly but firmly.
I giggled, causing him to let out a chuckle, before tightening his grip.
“Shut the fuck up, faggot, and take it. God your ass was made for my cock.” He moaned and growled, and I moaned and whimpered. Eventually he pulled us on to our sides so he was spooning me and thrusting deeply into my gut. His hands roamed my body, massaging my tits, caressing my back and shoulders, nibbling at my ears.
“I’m gonna blast inside of you. I haven’t come in a week,” he warned.
And he did. I felt seven or eight very strong jets of his babymakers pulsing into me.
It was like Riley was reading my mind. “I think I just knocked you up, bitch.” He stayed inside me, hard, filling me up, holding me tight. He seemed to drift off, then come to and nibble at my ear some more, or kiss my neck. Maybe an hour or so later he wanted to go again.
“Get ready for the second load, faggot.” He pulled us sideways, into a spooning position, and placed his strong hand on my throat, squeezing, telling me he was in control, he was boss. With the other hand he tweaked and pinched my nipples, which went straight to my erection. Something about his strokes this time were hitting my prostate perfectly, with agonizing precision.
“You’re gonna make me blow, Daddy,” I warned.
That sent Riley over the edge, and he exploded deep into me once again, with a roar, prompting me to release jets of cum all over the bed and my stomach and even Riley's arms.
“Damn right I’m your Daddy,” he said, pulling me tightly into his body, the sweat of my back and his front meeting in a slick communion. He ran his fingers through my hair, caressed my face and planted his lips on the nape of my neck. He sighed heavily.
“I think I love you a little, faggot.”
* * *
The next afternoon, as I was stretching ahead of a run, Nick asked if he could tag along. Now Nick runs harder than I do, works out more fiercely than I do, and physically can tie me in knots. I said yes, of course, and waited for him to say what was on his mind. Only he didn’t.
“How are you and Riley now?” I prompted him.
“Amaze-balls. On the same page. He said I’m not allowed to fuck you without inviting him.”
“I’m flattered, I guess,” I said, skeptically. "I think Riley had a lot to process after my 'date' with Finn got flipped by him and Donovan. In that respect he's like Rico. Exuberant. I trust him. Even if he was responsible for cooking up that date-rape scene with Finn and Donovan."
"Actually, Finn had nothing to do with it. He just went with the flow," Nick said.
"Then why did Pedro tell me they weren’t going to be at dinner tonight? He and Donovan are on some kind of a 'time-out?'"
"Only Donovan is on a time-out. Jackson heard him explode after you took your parting shot at the duplex and came to see what the fuss was. And laid down the law.
"Told Donovan that until he got over his closeted self and stopped with the self-hating homophobia, he was cut off. No gym, no Playstation, no family dinners, no socializing. He could eat by himself on their side of the duplex."
"For how long?" I asked.
"I guess until he figures shit out to Jackson's satisfaction. Jackson is at least letting Finn hang with him. They need to talk."
"I don't understand why Finn wanted a date with me if he has feelings for Donovan," I said, puzzled.
"Honestly? I think he just felt left out of all the Justin activity. And maybe was sick of waiting for Donovan to make a move outside of play-acting a homophobic bully. Maybe he even wanted to make him jealous."
"It worked. Is that why Donovan joined Riley in interrupting my date?"
"Riley and Nick are close. I think they'd discussed the idea of doing you together, but it wasn't supposed to be that night. They'd been drinking in the other duplex and Donovan suggested they go for Finn's sloppy seconds. I think he just wanted to interrupt Finn putting the moves on you. And Riley was still in the mood to call the shots with some of the guys in bitching you out. The rest you know."
"Yeah, they used me to fuck each other. I mean, I was kinda into the date-rape scene. But I realized pretty quickly I wasn't really invited."
"Well, Riley got his head screwed back on. He complained to me about Donovan being a bossy-assed closet case, said no one was going to tell him who to kiss. Or not to kiss. Said to make sure I included him the next time I scened with you."
“I'm definitely in the mood for some Nick magic. Or evil," I said, giving him an inquiring look.
“Yeah, yeah. Haven’t you kind of had your fill lately?”
“Not of you,” I admitted.
“Cool your jets, I have something in the works. But it’s gonna be a lot.”
“A lot compared to what I’ve put up with?”
“It’s Coach.”
My stomach sank. Not that I wasn’t on board with a dalliance with Coach. But by the leaden way Nick said that, the ominous ring, I was sure it was, in Nick’s words, ‘gonna be a lot.’
During our cool down as we turned the corner onto our street, I asked him if there was something on his mind.
“Nope,” he said. “Just wanted some Justin time.”
